


Light and Grace

by randomdreamer01



Series: Where's My Love? [11]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Divorce, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-10 01:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10425969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomdreamer01/pseuds/randomdreamer01
Summary: “Hi, Jyn. You...um...you look great.”“Well, you look great too.”Cassian smiles. “You’re lying.”“Of course I’m lying. I’ve always told you that you should be banned from dressing yourself.”“Yes, well…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Ever since you, there was no one else to do it.”..Six years after their divorce, Cassian and Jyn meet again at Bodhi's graduation from flight school.Conclusion to the "Where's My Love?" series





	1. Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guineapiggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineapiggie/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are FINALLY here, guys. The end. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but as I was writing it, it grew into two chapters. So please enjoy! 
> 
> The dialogue for Jyn and Cassian's phone call was written first by **guineapiggie**. The call is told from Cassian's perspective in her stories ["Just Don't Take Too Long"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9804086) and ["All I Think About (Is You)"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9949319). I'd encourage you to read them, ["Emergency Contact"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9541490) and ["The Christmas Interlude"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10099370/chapters/22497611) first to understand parts of this story. But if you can't spare the time, please enjoy this one just the same. 
> 
> Couple of important things:
> 
> 1\. **guineapiggie** and I have listed down all the stories in both our series in chronological order. [Check out this masterpost by clicking here.](http://justkeeponthegrass.tumblr.com/post/161398523922/fluent-in-silence-or-wheres-my-love-by)
> 
> 2\. Even MORE songs have been added to the series' playlist. [Check them out here!](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6q0-u-EGyHU9e97LkZXq7jsvBams3flT&spfreload=10)
> 
> Reviews are (almost) better than high-quality Rogue One gifs. So please leave one if you can.

_We each are young. We each have a heart. Oh, why should we thus stand coldly apart?_

**Louisa May Alcott**

 

* * *

  _All the things I've seen_

_And the places that I've been_

_Don't mean a thing since I found you_

_All that matters now_

_Since I've won your love somehow_

_Are these plans that I keep making_

_Not to lose you_

* * *

 

**Wedding Night - Tulum, Mexico**

 

Jyn sits on the sand and watches as the waves roll in closer and closer until they touch her toes and roll back out again. There is a full moon hanging in the sky tonight, its soft, yellow light illuminating the white shores, the few fishing boats docked at the pier and the trees swaying in the breeze. She can hear laughter coming from the restaurant. There is music, the sound of glasses clinking together, and what sounds like Bodhi and Kay shouting loudly in broken Spanish. Even Baze’s gruff chuckles can be heard above the den. 

For a brief moment, everything in her world feels right. It feels ordinary. Normal. Whole. Just like it must be for other people. Maybe this is what it was like for her parents before life found them and destroyed it all. Maybe this is what her father had promised her a long time ago when she was too young to understand that promises aren’t usually kept…

_Whatever I do, I do it to protect you._

The music in the restaurant changes. She hears Chirrut’s amused tones, saying something she can’t quite catch, and then the sound of Bodhi starting a Spanish karaoke song. What follows is an uncharacteristic howl of laughter from Kay. 

Jyn smiles a little to herself and drops her left hand to touch the silvery water as it rolls back in. And there, she sees it again - the tiny band of gold around her finger. 

She and Cassian had bought the rings from a nearby market along with the white dress that she got married in and which she is currently wearing. She recalls his smile when he picked up the rings and showed them to her in his open palm. She had kissed him, said it was perfect, but that he’s not allowed to go with her when she buys the dress.

_It is bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding_ , she’d told him. 

He’d laughed and replied with, _Yes, we don’t need any more bad luck, do we?_

The memory makes her smile even wider. Her heart swells despite her attempt to stop it from doing so, and the water trickles between her fingers, cold and warm all at the same time. And there it is again - that tiny gold band she can’t get enough of looking at. Again and again, she sees it. 

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” 

She looks up and there is Cassian, standing barefoot in the sand, his trousers rolled up to below his knees. He is smiling warmly at her, a bottle of wine in his hand. 

“It is…different,” Jyn says and brings up her hand to stare closer at the ring. “It is a nice different, I suppose.” 

Cassian’s eyebrows lift.“You suppose?” 

“Well, I never imagined myself as a married woman before,” she says, smiling up at him. “I don’t really know how this works.”

“You can start by showing up to your own wedding reception,” says Cassian, but he doesn’t look angry when he sits down on the sand beside her. He uncorks the bottle of wine and offers it to her. “I thought it was my duty as your husband to bring the reception to you.” 

She leans in, kisses him briefly and takes the bottle. 

“I consider this a good enough start.” 

“Come here,” he says, his voice teasing and warm, and she scoots closer until he can wrap his arm around her. She takes a sip of the wine while resting her head on his shoulder. Again, the world is soft and perfect, and the waves keep rolling in gently as though it would always be this way. 

He bends down a little to plant a kiss on her head. “When I left, Chirrut just convinced Bodhi and Kay to sing a duet.”

“However did he manage _that_?” 

“Bribery,” says Cassian, chuckling softly, and she can feel the motion reverberating through her entire body. “But they were already very drunk by that point. The bribery was just an excuse.” 

“I’d pay good money to see that.” 

“So why are you sitting out here by yourself then?” he asks. Even though his tone is smooth and casual, she can hear the fear hidden behind the words - the careful, almost breakable caution riddled in every syllable. 

She puts the bottle down in the sand and winds her hand through his. And there, too, on his finger, is the same band of gold. 

“I don’t regret this, Cassian. Not one bit.” 

“I didn’t say - ” 

“No, but you were thinking it. I said ‘ _yes’,_ remember?” 

“You did, but I was the one who asked.”

“So you think you’re roping me into this against my will?” She glances up at him and his eyes do not flinch away from hers. “I said _‘yes’,_ Cassian. I said _‘yes.’_ Are _you_ regretting this?”

“No,” he answers immediately. “No. And I don’t think I ever will.” 

“Because if you are, there’s still time. We can sort something out. People get married all the time in Mexico on silly road trips. If we are not _sure -_ ”

“I am sure.” 

“We wouldn’t have to break up. We could just take our time and - ”

“Jyn. Just stop.” 

He presses his lips against hers, swallowing the rest of her words. He tastes of wine, of the sea, of the fire that’s stirring in the pit of her stomach. When they finally break apart, she feels tears stinging the corners of her eyes. 

“I’m not used to people sticking around when things go bad,” she whispers, her eyes half-closed and her forehead pressed against his. “I’m not even used to people sticking around when things are _good_.” 

“Well, then,” he says, his voice a little broken, and the hand he lifts to caress her cheek feels as light as a feather, “welcome home.” 

 

* * *

 

  **Six Years After the Divorce**

 

_Many times I've been alone, and many times I've cried_

_Any way, you'll never know, the many ways I've tried_

_And still they lead me back, to the long winding road_

_You left me standing here a long long time ago_

 

* * *

 

**London, England**

 

Jyn never thought that teaching teenagers how to punch could be so therapeutic.

But now, as she stares at Cathy - who has as much aggression as Jyn herself had at the age of fifteen - she has no time to find the realisation amusing. Cathy is a tall, lithe girl who fights better than she talks, and now, she is unleashing another punch at Jyn. The punch is exactly what Jyn had taught her a punch should be - sharp, precise, with a hell of a lot of rage and power behind it.

Jyn dodges, swerving to her left, then parries with a punch of her own. Cathy ducks and responds with an uppercut that Jyn almost sees coming too late. 

“Good,” says Jyn, jumping back just in time. She slaps together the boxing pads she has strapped to her hands and levels Cathy with an impressed look. “You’re much better than I ever was at your age.”

The girl’s answer comes as a series of fast jabs that Jyn blocks expertly. 

“Move your feet,” she snaps. “Loosen your shoulders a bit.” 

Cathy purses her lips in concentration, twists her body around and delivers a kick to Jyn’s head. Jyn, barely missing a beat, catches it with the pad. 

“Good,” she says again. “You’re improving.” 

The bell rings out, shrill and long. 

Cathy moves back and drops her fists. “Am I?” she asks and her voice is quiet, small, completely different from the way she fights. “Can we go one more round?”

“Our time’s up, Cathy,” says Jyn. She begins ripping the pads off while pushing her hair away from her face. “And you know you’re doing well. Do I have to keep saying it?”

“No, I just - ” 

“Confidence, Cathy, goes a long way.”

“Yes, Miss Erso.”

_Miss Erso._

The name still rankles for many different reasons. One being it makes her sound like a middle aged English teacher - like the uptight ones she had when she was a child - rather than a boxing instructor at a South London youth centre. Another reason being it still reminds her of a time in her life when an extra ‘r’ in the title had made all the difference in her world. 

Jyn notices the way Cathy’s eyes drop in disappointment. Sighing, she reaches out a hand and gives the girl a firm pat on the shoulder. 

“You’re doing well, Cathy,” says Jyn. She’s not at good at this. Not at all. But she _wants_ to be. _Has_ to be. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, okay?”

That is all it takes to bring a shy smile to the girl’s lips. “Thank you, Miss Erso,” says Cathy. She hesitates. “And I’ve been meaning to ask you. I know you’re off on Fridays, but…”

“But what, Cathy?”

“Well, I was wondering if you could make an exception _this_ Friday? For me?”

Jyn frowns, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from her neck and shoulders. “Don’t you have school?”

“We have the day off, Miss Erso. And I have…well, I have no where else to go.” Cathy’s eyes drop away from Jyn’s and she attempts to look casual while taking off her boxing gloves. “All my friends have plans and I don’t want to stay home.”

“I have the day off.” 

“I know, miss. But I thought…maybe a couple of hours? In the morning? I’ll be here on time.”

“Cathy - ”

“Please, Miss Erso.” 

Jyn sighs. She wants nothing more than to say no. She values her days off. She has taken this trip home so she can travel, read, take walks - do ordinary activities she couldn’t do in America because things there are now too intricately linked with _him_. Spending a precious day off in a dingy gym is not ideal, no matter how therapeutic it has become. 

But Cathy… well, Jyn does not have it in her heart to turn away young girls with pent-up anger and reserved insecurities. At the end of the day, she was one herself. 

“Alright, Cathy,” she says and Cathy’s face lights up with a smile. “Nine o’clock on the dot. I’ll spar with you for two hours. Only two hours, do you understand?”

“Yes, miss. That’s more than enough. Thank you.”

Jyn can’t help but smile back. “Now run along home. It’s getting late.”

Cathy gives her another grin before practically skipping away to the changing room. Chuckling to herself, Jyn tosses her used towel back into her duffel bag before strolling over to the front desk to get a drink of water. 

The youth worker behind the desk, a hard-looking, tattooed man in his fifties, looks up as Jyn approaches. 

“Erso, you’ve got mail.”

“Where’s it from, Steve?”

“America. And how many times do I have to tell you _not_ to use this centre as your home address?”

Jyn shrugs, putting her bottle under the nearby water tap. “I’m moving flats every few weeks, Steve. This is the only place where people can reach me.”

“Don’t know if I should be glad about that,” murmurs Steve. “We’re not even paying you. I’d ask, ‘what’s your angle?’, but you never give me a bloody answer. Not once.”

Jyn smiles coyly. “Interested, Steve?” 

“As long as the kids like you, I don’t care one bit,” he says, but there’s no mistaking the way he brushes aside her quip with more force than necessary. “And here. Take your mail.” He tosses over the envelope and Jyn catches it by the tips of her fingers. “And remember. Change your bloody address.” 

Jyn grunts in reply, her attention already diverted to the item in hand. Her face immediately lights up when she sees the name on the corner of the envelope and she wastes no time in ripping it open. A cream-coloured piece of paper slips out. 

 

_You are cordially invited_

_to attend the Graduation of_

_Mister Bodhi Rook_

_from US Aviation Academy_

_on July twenty-second_

_at ten o’clock in the morning_

 

Grinning, Jyn quickly makes her way back to where her duffel bag is, takes out her phone and captures a picture of the invitation.

 

_\- You : [20:03]_

Got your invitation in the mail today. 

Bloody proud of you. 

See you in a few weeks, pilot.

 

She doesn’t expect a reply right away because of the time difference. But her gaze lingers on the screen for a few seconds, willing the tick to turn from grey to blue, indicating that Bodhi has read her message. But when it doesn’t happen, she stores the phone back in her bag, slings it over her shoulder and heads for the changing rooms.

Bodhi still hasn’t read her text by the time Jyn finishes her shower. She nods goodbye to Steve and makes her way to the nearby bus stop. It is still light outside, with the summer sun hanging in the sky, and Jyn joins a line of people queuing up for the 345, the bus that will take her from Brixton down to Clapham Common. 

Ever since she left America a year ago, Jyn has travelled all over Europe. She has seen the beauty of Amsterdam, the canals of Venice, both the magical and seedy sides of Paris. But England, although never quite _home_ (she had a home once, but it hadn’t been a place), has a familiar rhythm. A sort of deep-rooted beat, perhaps, that Jyn can never shake from her being no matter how hard she tries. She doesn’t miss her old life. Not really. At least not like the last time. Here, the ache doesn’t go away, but it _is_ lessening. She tells herself it is because _he_ is not here. That if she puts an ocean between them long enough, perhaps one day the ache might even disappear completely. 

She used to think that everything is easier with him, but now she has learned that it can be harder too. 

The sun begins to set by the time she unlocks the front door of her flat in Clapham. Her flatmate, a Polish woman in her late thirties, is lounging in their small living room and barely glances up at the sound of the door opening. Jyn makes straight for her tiny bedroom without saying hello. What is the point? She is going to move again in a week or so anyway.

She only just dumped her bag on the bed when her phone buzzes. 

 

_\- Bodhi : [20:54]_

Great!

Chirrut and Baze got theirs as well.

They’re coming over from China for the ceremony.

 

Jyn finds herself smiling broadly as she types a reply. 

 

_\- You : [20:55]_

That’s amazing! 

It’s been ages.

Bodhi, I’m so excited for you.

 

_\- Bodhi : [20:56]_

Make sure to bring a graduation present.

Preferably something expensive.

 

_\- You : [20:57]_

Don’t push it.

 

_\- Bodhi : [20:57]_

Hahaha!

 

_\- Bodhi : [21:00]_

Jyn…

 

_\- You : [21:01]_

What?

 

_\- Bodhi : [21:06]_

I’m gonna invite Cassian and Kay.

So they might be coming too.

 

Her fingers pause over the buttons. 

The last time she had seen Cassian, it was a year ago. She had been lying in a hospital bed with a bullet wound in her side and he had driven down to see her simply because… Well, she still doesn’t like to think about _why_ he’d done what he did. She has been reminding herself every day since that there is no point in wondering about something that _shouldn’t_ matter.

She’d told him to leave, she remembers. She can still recall the way his eyes lingered on her face when he said goodbye, the way it made her heart beat a little faster, the way she wanted nothing more than to ask him to stay and not to leave her after all…

But that’s not the way it works, is it? You don’t beg your ex-husband to return. Not when you’re the one who walked out the door. 

She should have expected this. Of course Bodhi would invite them. It is _Bodhi,_ at the end of the day; the man is practically made out of second chances. But seeing the words typed down, more solid than she has feared, is another matter entirely. 

A beat. A pause. It feels like an eternity as her fingers hover over the screen. Eventually - 

 

_\- You : [21:12]_

That’s not a problem.

I’ll see you there. 

 

She tosses the phone onto the pile of unwashed clothes on the floor and ignores it completely when it buzzes Bodhi’s next replies. 

 

* * *

 

When Jyn is woken up by the sound of her phone ringing a few hours later, it takes her a couple of seconds to get her bearings straight. 

She is back in England, she tells herself. Not America. In a rented flat in South London. It is almost pitch black in the room, the only source of light is her phone that’s on the floor. Her head spins as she sits up. She has to give herself a few seconds before she reaches down and grabs the item off the thread-bare carpet.

Her first thought is that it is Bodhi, calling to check up on her like he always does whenever the topic of Cassian is remotely breached. But she doesn’t recognise the caller ID. Frowning, she presses answer, and her voice comes out hoarse and rough. 

“Hello?”

“Jyn.” 

She knows that voice. There have been days when she thought that she’s forgotten it. Days when she has wished that she _could_ forget it. But now, upon hearing it again, she realises that she probably never will. 

“Cassian?”

“Jyn, is this a bad time?”

Suddenly, the shock is replaced by panic and she almost trips over her words when she asks: “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“No. Well. Some idiot blew up my car, but - ”

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, fine, wasn’t even anywhere near it when it happened; Antilles’s and Dameron’s were rigged too, they blew yesterday so I knew... Everyone’s fine.”

“Good. Okay,” is all she manages to whisper. She closes her eyes briefly, drawing in a long breath. She has to ask the question, hasn’t she? _Damn it all._ “Then why are you calling?”

“Come home, Jyn.”

So _this - this_ is what it feels like when your heart drops. 

The world doesn’t stop moving, but it might as well have. 

She drops her hand that’s holding the phone, reminds herself (like she does every time she sees him) that it is _over, over, over,_ and that whatever they both say or feel is just them fooling themselves. 

_Think with your brain, you idiot._

She bites her lip and makes sure her voice is firm when she brings the phone back up and says: “Kay said you were sober.”

Because that’s what Kay told Bodhi and that’s what Bodhi told her. It took him two stints in rehab, she’d heard. Two stints in rehab for him to stop drinking excessively and two nights of heavy drinking for _her_ to dull the guilt. 

“I am,” he says. “I am sober.”

She manages to bite down the pain. But the anger…well, the anger is another beast altogether. It is rearing its head, making the words pour out of her like a dam had been broken.

“That’s all I ever wanted to hear, you fucking idiot, that’s all I was waiting for!” Despite her best effort, her voice is shaking like mad. “I waited, Cassian. Six seconds after I slammed our front door. Six minutes, six hours, six days, six weeks, damn it, six months... but six years? Who do you think you are? How can you ask me – six years – you’re such a fucking asshole. Six years, it takes you six years to decide you want to put up a fight? Asshole.”

He says nothing and she wishes he would. Because it is embarrassing and tragic as hell that it takes only three words from him to undo all the work she has put into getting over him. 

“Why the hell now?” she asks, and her voice breaks despite herself. 

“Because I could’ve died today,” he replies softly, “and I didn’t even know if they’d call you if I had. I wasn’t even sure if you’d - ” 

He trails off, leaving her to piece together the rest of his unsaid sentence. 

That she would what, she wonders? That she’d come to his funeral? That she’d care? 

There have been dreams over the years. Of him with a bullet in his head, of a knife protruding from his side, of a corpse washed up from the river.Every time they saw each other over the years, she kept telling herself that each time might be the last, and if so, she would give anything to go first. She doesn’t think she could live with the alternative. 

“You sound tired,” he says, interrupting her train of thought. 

“Yeah, because it’s the middle of the night and you fucking woke me up.”

“Where are you?”

For a second, she considers not telling him. But then - 

“England.”

He sighs and the familiarity of the sound destroys her a little.

“I’m sorry I woke you. I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. I didn’t tell you.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he mutters. “Well, I’ll... let you sleep. Have fun in Europe.”

“Cassian, wait, what the hell am I supposed to make of –“

“I want you to come home.”

“Cassian –“

“That’s all I need you to know.”

She leans back against the headboard, closes her eyes. Wills herself not to cry.

It would be so easy to say yes. After all, ‘yes’ is only one word. Just one word. Only a syllable. She could simply let it roll off her tongue, let it slip out… 

But - 

“I can’t,” she whispers. 

“We were young and we fucked it up, Jyn, but things change. And I just want you to know that I’m not going to stop waiting and I’ll be here if you ever change your mind.”

The tears being to fall, silent and burning against her cheeks. If only things were that easy, she thinks. If only life were that sweet and forgiving. If only…

“Cassian - ”

And she is surprised by how much his name sounds like a ‘yes’ once it is said out loud. She thinks she can feel him smiling through the line.

“Goodnight, Jyn,” he says, and she hates the warmth in his voice. “Sleep well.”

The call disconnects and she drops the phone into her lap. 

She doesn’t know how long she sits there in the dark, looking at it. 

She stares at it like the conversation had been a dream. Maybe it _had_ been a dream. Perhaps this is one of those instances when her subconscious reveals a desire she can’t bring herself to acknowledge when she’s awake. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She rubs the sleep from her eyes. Pinches herself in the wrist. 

No. Not dreaming. 

She lifts a hand to her face and finds the tears still plastered to her cheeks.

_Come home, Jyn._

Six years. Six bloody years. She laughs out loud and the sound is broken - like tiny shards of glass that crack and creak when someone steps on them. 

Her phone says she has seven unread messages from Bodhi. She opens up the app, reads them one by one, too numb to do anything else. 

 

_ \- Bodhi : [21:05] _

Are you sure?

Cause if you’re not sure, we can talk about it.

I know it’s hard. Believe me.

But maybe you guys are better now?

 

_\- Bodhi : [21:30]_

Well, if you say you’re fine, I guess you’re fine.

I’m sorry.

I just think it’s time we can all be friends again.

 

The last message makes Jyn’s heart clench with ache for her best friend, and before she realises what she is doing, she is dialling Bodhi’s number. 

He picks up faster than she thought he would. 

“Jyn?”

She coughs a little, tries to smooth over her voice before she replies: “Hey, Bodhi. I’m sorry, do you have a minute?”

“Wait a second.”

She hears Bodhi talking to someone in muted tones. Then there are footsteps, the sound of a door opening and closing. 

“Okay. I’m here. Everything alright?” asks Bodhi. “You didn’t reply to my texts so I thought I should give you time. I didn’t - ”

“Bodhi,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, “Cassian called.”

A pause. The silence is enough for her to picture the shock stealing over her friend’s expression. 

“What - what did he want?”

“He wants me to come home.”

“Fucking hell,” Bodhi swears under his breath and she nearly doesn’t catch it. Another pause, longer than the first one. Then -

“What did you say?” 

“I said…I said I couldn’t.” 

“But - but - you wanted to. Right?” 

She inhales sharply. “Yes.”

And she almost curses at Bodhi for knowing her too well.

 

* * *

_I've seen fire and I've seen rain_

_I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end_

_I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend_

_But I always thought that I'd see you again_

* * *

 

The gate is a rusty old thing. As Jyn unlocks and pushes it open, it creaks and groans like it has millions of secrets it loathes to give up.  The place has the air of a garden that has been neglected for years. There are weeds growing every where, grass shooting up untrimmed and uncut, vines snaking along the bricked path, along the walls of the little church and around each headstone. The earth beneath her feet is rich and wet from the morning’s rain. As she steps on it, it sinks and softens like heavy sand. 

There is only one other person in this graveyard. An old man who looks like he is in his sixties, hunched up in a frayed summer jacket, bending over a grave many rolls down from the gate. From where Jyn is standing, she sees the bunch of dried flowers the man is holding, the way his knees quake when he crouches down to put the flowers on the ground. 

The day is grey and lonely, with too many clouds in the sky and too many memories swirling in the air. 

Jyn wanders along the rolls of headstones, reading every name. Some of the headstones are grand and old, with fancy letterings and pictures on them. Some are simple with just the person’s name chiselled in in a common font. She sees flowers on the ground. Roses mostly. And she is reminded once again why she has always hated the flower. Love and death - those are the only things roses are good for, she has learned. 

Thankfully, the graves she has come for has no flowers. Not even roses. She finds them after five minutes of searching. They are side by side, like she’d hoped they would be. At the back of the graveyard, half-hidden behind an overgrown shrubbery. She nearly misses it. Nearly walks pass it. Nearly doesn’t see the names carved on the stone in rigid letters without any dates of birth or death. 

_Lyra Erso,_ reads one stone. _Galen Erso_ , reads the other. 

Jyn stops, stands before them, and reaches out a trembling hand to touch the cold, smooth surface of the stone on the left. 

“Hi, Mama,” she whispers, and the sound of her voice twists and turns in the quiet air, irrelevant and unheard by anyone except Jyn herself. 

She moves her hand to the stone on the right. Newer, smoother, with less scratches on its surface. 

“Hi, Papa.” 

Whoever buried Lyra and Galen Erso had chosen the same inscription for both their headstones. Jyn trails her fingers over the verse, trying to make sense of the words. 

 

_For sin shall not have dominion over you: for ye are not under the law, but under grace._

_Romans: 6:14_

 

She frowns, not fully understanding its meaning. But she files it away for another day. 

Not caring one bit that her jeans will probably get wet, she sits down on the ground. She opens up her satchel and draws out a rumpled bouquet - sunflowers - and places them upon her mother’s grave. Bright yellow against the dark brown and green of the earth and grass. 

“Your favourite, Mama,” she says, her voice heavy. “A guy was selling it outside the tube station. I didn’t - I didn’t want to come empty handed.”

A chilly breeze blows pass, ruffling the grass and the leaves on the ground, but Lyra Erso sleeps on. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” says Jyn and she is surprised by how easily the words come. She didn’t expect to speak; she didn’t even know she had anything to say. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I was…angry, I suppose. Really fucking angry.” 

She makes a sound and it is half in irony, half in sadness. Her fingers trail over the blades of grass. 

“Bodhi’s doing really well, Papa. You would be proud of him. He’s about to be a pilot soon. He takes really good care of me, like he promised you he would. He - he misses you.” 

In the corner of her eye, she sees the old man walking back towards the gate. It makes her think of the rows of roses. Of a sunflower in a tiny pot by a hospital bed. Of a car on fire. And without thinking, she continues.

“Papa, there’s this - this man. I think you and Mama would like him. At least, I _hope_ you would like him. There’s this man and - and…I don’t know what to do. Please…Please….tell me what I should do.” 

There is no reply. Only the rustling of leaves and the sound of her own breathing. She draws in air. Tells herself to keep it together. Not to make a scene. Not to break down. Especially not again.

She brushes a hand lightly over the sunflowers. She sees a petal that’s bent and she smooths it over carefully, hating herself for getting everything wrong. They talked about coming here together - she and Cassian. Long ago, before they were even married. Seeing the names _Lyra Erso_ and _Galen Erso_ without him by her side makes her feel like she is doing everything out of sequence.

She almost laughs at the irony and presses her palm against the bible verse. She imagines that she is looking into a pair green eyes similar to her own, and not at a slab of unfeeling stone. 

“Papa, I hope you and Mama are happy, wherever you are. But I don’t even know if there’s a place where that’s possible. Heaven seems like a fairy tale, doesn’t it?” She pauses, inhales heavily. Her throat is tightening like she is about to choke. “I walked through Hyde Park today and I remember how we used to do that together. Back when I was little. You carried me on your shoulders, Papa, do you remember that? I weighed more than a six year old ought to weight and Mama thought you were crazy. But, then again, you always were a little crazy.” She smiles brokenly. “I keep wondering what you’d make of all this. Of everything. I wish I could talk to you. See you. Know you a little better. Sometimes - sometimes it seems like I didn’t know both of you at all, but I still miss you something awful and it feels like it will never go away.” 

The first proper tear slides down her face and she brushes it away hastily. Her hand reaches down to the ground, and the earth is fresh and warm beneath her skin. She whispers softly: “I wish I could make you proud.” 

A small ray of sunlight peaks through the grey clouds, shining exceptionally bright. It is a fleeting moment - a brief interlude when the world is basked in gold and warmth. A respite, perhaps. But it comes and goes as quickly as the way the grass flickers beneath her fingers at the slightest touch of a breeze.

And Jyn has to remind herself that it is not an answer. That it is only a coincidence on the back of many other coincidences. Because, at the end of the day, no matter what she says, stones cannot speak and stones cannot hear.

 

* * *

 

Baze is getting old. 

He can feel it in his knees, most of all, and in his back. It doesn’t help that there is almost no leg room on an airplane. He is dying to push his seat back, but the person sitting behind him is a Chinese woman in her eighties. Despite his own discomforts, Baze can’t bring himself to encroach upon her space any further. He hates that he is feeling considerate, and he can only mumble incoherently under his breath as he shuffles and shifts in his seat. 

Everything bothers Baze - the plane, the seatbelt, the turbulence, their journey. However, Chirrut, who is sitting to Baze’s right, is showing no signs of discomfort. The blind man has his hands folded in his lap and he is smiling peacefully in his sleep. Chirrut’s blatant disregard of their uncomfortable situation is probably what bothers Baze the most. Because, damn it, isn’t one allowed to be a little confused and disgruntled by it all?

“You are worried,” says Chirrut suddenly. 

Baze stares at his partner. He should _really_ stop being surprised by Chirrut’s clandestine instincts. But somehow, he is still astounded by it after all these years.

“I haven’t said anything,” Baze grunts, not wanting to give Chirrut the satisfaction. “How would you know?”

“Would you _really_ like me to answer that?”

Baze glowers. “I can see that you’re enjoying this.”

“Immensely.”

“I don’t - ”

“You worry too much, Baze Malbus.”

“And you don’t worry enough, you old fool,” says Baze, and even though there is an edge to his voice, he can’t quite mask the affection behind it. “You are never bothered by anything. It is a dangerous way to live.” 

“I never worry because you do the worrying for the both of us,” says Chirrut, smiling again. 

“Someone has to.” 

“Don’t you trust me?”

Baze scoffs. “Of course I trust you. Which makes me worry even more. We are moving back to America with nothing but the clothes on our backs. We don’t even have a place to stay.”

“We _do_ have a place to stay. The school.” 

Baze swallows. Yes, the school. Chirrut’s dream. The martial arts school he finally managed to open in America after years and years of toiling from one grubby Chinese restaurant to the next. Baze had supported the endeavour, was incredibly proud of it, but it had always been Chirrut’s dream and Chirrut’s alone. And when Baze suggested they move back to China and leave the school behind, Chirrut was generous enough to go along with it. But now - now that they’re going back - Baze is reminded again by how much he hates and loves Chirrut for always being infuriatingly _good._

“I know this is not what you want,” says Chirrut. His voice is softer, its tone no longer teasing. “I know you don’t want to leave home and that you don’t like America as much as I do.”

“I don’t like America at all,” mumbles Baze.

Chirrut smiles. “Yes. You have made your sentiments quite clear over the years.” 

“It is not about Bodhi’s graduation,” says Baze hastily. “I am proud of him. I want to be there for him. It is just - ”

“The moving back.”

Baze sighs. “Yes.” His eyes drop to his lap. “I know I have asked you this before, Chirrut, but are you sure about this?”

“I am sure.” 

“But things are…complicated. Why now?”

“Why now?” Chirrut smiles, turning to face Baze with a sad and regretful expression on his kind face. “It is because we are a family and we have forgotten that during these last few years. It is time we all remember again.” 

Baze lets out an exasperated sigh, but from the way Chirrut circles a hand around his wrist, he knows that his partner understands how he is feeling.

Yes, Baze hates and loves Chirrut for being good. But he hates and loves Chirrut even more when he is right. 

 

* * *

_Can't you see, oh, can't you see_

_What that woman, Lord, she been doin' to me_

_Can't you see, can't you see_

_What that woman, Lord, she been doin' to me_

* * *

 

Cassian leans against the hood of Kay’s car, smoking a cigarette, as he waits for his friend outside the precinct. The sun is shining brightly today. It is a crisp, fresh morning with hardly a cloud in the sky. There is no sign of rain, with only a gentle breeze blowing pass. A perfect day, Cassian thinks. Hopefully, it is a good omen for what’s to come. He has never been one who believes in such things, but hell, he’ll take anything today. He needs all the help he can get. 

“Cassian! Cassian!” 

Cassian looks up at the sound of his name and sees a little boy with curly hair and a toothy grin running full pelt towards him.

“Poe?” 

Cassian barely has time to throw away his cigarette before the tiny ball of energy collides with him, wrapping its tiny arms around his leg. 

“Cassian! Cassian! Daddy said you were - ”

“Poe! Poe! Leave Mister Andor alone!” a voice shouts out in Spanish and Kes Dameron emerges from the building, looking a little bit worse for wear. “And what have I told you about running off like this? You’re supposed to tell me first before you go - ”

“But, Dad! Dad! Cassian’s here!”

“Hey, little man,” says Cassian awkwardly, trying to disentangle the child from his leg. “Maybe you should listen to your dad.”

“I’m sorry about this, Andor,” says Kes. He pulls Poe away from Cassian and lifts his son up in his arms. “This guy never stays still. I swear - ”

“Nah, it’s okay,” says Cassian, waving a hand. “Is this ‘bring your kid to work’ day, Dameron?”

“Hell would have to freeze over before Draven’d let that happen,” smirks Dameron. He moves his head to the side as Poe makes a grab for his hair. “Shara has to work today and we couldn’t find a sitter so I have to bring him along.” He frowns, looking at Cassian carefully. “I thought today’s your day off, Andor. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh, well.” Cassian gestures loosely at Kay’s car. “We - uh - we’re travelling somewhere.”

“Oh, yeah? To where?”

“Bodhi’s graduation,” replies Cassian, awkwardly running a hand through his hair. “Flight school, you know.”

“Oh! Say congratulations for me.”

“Will do.”

“And…uh…” Dameron’s signature grin returns. He winks at Cassian. “Are you…well, will you be seeing _her_?” 

Cassian feels the heat rush to his face. Dameron is never one for mincing words. Probably because the man is as fearless as he is friendly. Cassian remembers his phone call to Jyn a couple of weeks ago and how Dameron caught the tail end of that conversation by accident. Dameron had asked him point-blank and without any pretence if he still loved her. And, of course, Cassian couldn’t lie. Dameron has a way of doing that to a person.

“Um…yeah. We - uh - we’re going to run into each other.”

Poe grins brightly up at Cassian.“Does that mean you’re not gonna be sad anymore?”

“ _What_ \- ” 

“Poe!” cries Kes hastily, covering his son’s mouth with his hand. “I apologise for that, Andor. He’s a smart little fella. He picks up on things, you know.”

“Yeah, but - ” 

“A sign of how truly pathetic your life has become, detective,” says another voice. It is Kay, strolling out of the precinct with a bag over one shoulder and a jacket over the other. “Even a five year old knows the ins and outs of your love life.”

Cassian glares at his friend. “That sounds…wrong.”

“Merely stating the truth,” says Kay, opening up the car door and tossing his bag into the backseat. “Dameron, how lovely of you to come and see us off.”

“It was Poe’s idea,” says Demeron, grinning.

“Can Cassian and Kay come to dinner, Dad?”

“Not today, little man. They have places to get to.”

“But - but - ”

“I’ll tell you what, Poe,” says Cassian, reaching out to tweak the kid’s nose. “How about when we get back from our trip, eh? I promise we’ll drop by.” 

“Speak for yourself,” mutters Kay, earning a laugh from Dameron. 

Poe, however, seems to only have eyes for Cassian. “You promise?”

Cassian smiles. “I promise. But now Kay and I have to get going.”

“Give them a wave goodbye, Poe,” says Kes and Poe lifts both his hands to wave madly at Cassian and Kay. 

Cassian chuckles while Kay simply frowns as he slips into the driver’s seat. 

“Good luck, Andor,” says Dameron. His grin is replaced by a friendly and reassuring smile that is almost too kind for Cassian’s liking. It is the one thing that endlessly bugs Cassian about Dameron - his unshakeable positivity. “I hope it works out. I really do. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, well…” Cassian opens the passenger’s door, looking anywhere but at Dameron. He wants to say something else - anything else - but all he can manage is an awkward: “I - uh…thank you.”

But Dameron seems to understand. He places a strong hand on Cassian’s shoulder. 

“See you when you get back, Andor.”

“Yeah. You too, Dameron.”

Kay gives Cassian a long sideway glare after he gets into the car and closes the door. 

“What?” asks Cassian, shrugging at his friend.

“It is interesting.” 

“What’s interesting?”

“Seeing you have other friends.”

Cassian rolls his eyes. “Let’s get going, Kay. We’re wasting time.”

Kay smirks, but he puts the car into gear and steps on the accelerator. “Poor little Poe, though,” he says casually. “Something must be wrong with him.”

“Why would you say that?” asks Cassian, incredulous. 

“Well, he’s met you three times. Only three. I’ve met him _four_ times. I bought him a nerf gun and a colouring book. _You_ got him a bag of crisps. But somehow, he thinks you’re the greatest thing since slice bread. And it’s not like you have ever been good with children.” 

Cassian shrugs, a small smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “What can I say? Maybe it’s a Latin American thing.”

Kay makes a tutting noise, but offers no reply. Cassian, still smiling, reaches over to the backseat and retrieves a book. Kay glances at it, arching an eyebrow sceptically. 

“Please tell me you’ve brought along more than a book and a change of clothes.”

“Well, I brought more than one change of clothes. We’re staying more than one night, no?” 

“But you didn’t bring any gifts?” 

Cassian gives his friend a pointed look. “We agreed that we’re going to pick something up for Bodhi along the way.”

“I didn’t mean Bodhi.”

Cassian looks away immediately and mutters: “I bought flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“Sunflowers.”

“You bought _sunflowers_?”

“She likes them. She has always liked them.” 

“Cassian - ”

“What is it, Kay?”

“I know I was the one who put the idea in your head - ”

“You weren’t,” says Cassian immediately. “The idea was already there. You just…prodded it along.”

“Well, still, I just want to make sure that you’re ready for this. For seeing her again.” Cassian feels Kay’s gaze landing on him, holding him hostage. “No second thoughts?”

There is worry in Kay’s tone - unmistakable and barely concealed - and it gives Cassian cause to look back at his friend. The awkwardness and the shyness are slipping away, replaced by a bright, burning feeling he recognises as blind courage. 

“Second thoughts?” says Cassian, surprised. “Kay, I have no second thoughts. I asked her to come home and I meant it.” His lips thin into a determined line. “After all, I’ve come this far. I couldn’t face myself if I gave up now.” 

Kay looks away and sighs with resignation. 

“Then I suppose we are fucked either way.”

Cassian chuckles. “Yes, I suppose so.”

 

* * *

_We live through scars this time_

_But I've made up my mind_

_We can't leave us behind anymore_

_We'll have to hurt for now_

_But next time there's no doubt_

_'Cause I can't go without you anymore_

* * *

_._

_._

_._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Next Chapter: Grace_
> 
> _“Jyn,” says Kay, his voice low and calm, “we need to talk.”_
> 
> _She scoffs. “Damn right we do.”_
> 
>  
> 
> \---
> 
> List of songs used in this chapter (in order): Townes Van Zandt's "Lover's Lullaby", The Beatles' "Long and Winding Road", James Taylor's "Fire and Rain", The Marshall Tucker Band's "Can't You See?" and James Bay's "Scars". Thanks also to Hozier's "Like Real People Do" and "Cherry Wine" for the inspiration. [Check out the playlist here!](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6q0-u-EGyHU9e97LkZXq7jsvBams3flT&spfreload=10)
> 
> PLEASE hit me with your thoughts and questions, even if they're random. I would love to hear from you!


	2. Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I brought you flowers,” is the first thing Cassian says when he reaches her. He doesn’t come to stand beside her. Instead, he goes down and stands just two steps below where she is so that he is looking up at her, his mouth curving into a small smile. 
> 
> **Final chapter in the "Where's My Love?" series**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end. The final chapter. *wipes away tears* I'm sorry for getting emotional here, guys, but writing this series has been such a joy. I worked very hard on this ending and I hope everything I tried to do comes across.
> 
> Couple of important things:
> 
> 1\. **guineapiggie** has listed all the stories in both our series in chronological order. [Check out this masterpost by clicking here.](http://ruby-red-inky-blue.tumblr.com/post/158104055802/collaboration-masterpost)
> 
> 2\. MORE songs have been added to the series' playlist. You can follow Jyn and Cassian's journey from the first story to the last by listening to these songs in order. [Check out the playlist here!](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6q0-u-EGyHU9e97LkZXq7jsvBams3flT&spfreload=10) Small shout out to the Queen, Selena Quintanilla. As I'm posting this chapter, I realise that today is exactly 22 years since we lost her. Her music has been a HUGE inspiration to this series. Rest in peace, Selena. We miss you <3 
> 
> Reviews are (almost) better than happy endings. So please leave one if you can. Enjoy!

_I wish I’d done everything on earth with you._

**The Great Gatsby**

 

* * *

_The water is wide, I cannot cross over_

_And neither have I the wings to fly_

_Oh, build me a boat that can carry two_

_And both shall row, my love and I_

* * *

 

Jyn arrives at Bodhi’s graduation alone. 

She starts to regret it the moment she walks up the marble stairs towards the auditorium and sees scattered groups of people huddled together outside. There are students in their graduation gowns, looking unmistakably joyous and excited, taking pictures with their friends and families. They all throw Jyn a curious glance as she walks pass and she is glad that she has on dark sunglasses. Somehow, they make her feel safe, like she doesn’t have to make eye contact with someone unless she _really_ wants to. 

The moment she reaches the last step, she sees them, standing near the door into the auditorium. The sight stops her in her tracks and it is as though she is looking at a photograph - a memory that has come to life before her very eyes.

There is Baze, greyer and more lined, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed; Chirrut stands to his right, telling a joke; Kay is in a neat brown suit, looking surprised by his own smile; Bodhi, happier and more animated than she has ever seen him, decked out in a graduation cap and gown. And there, standing to Bodhi’s left, not talking, merely observing everyone with a thoughtful expression, is _him._

It has been a year since she last saw Cassian. He looks different. Better. There is no tiredness around his mouth, under the hallows of his eyes. His beard is neatly trimmed although he has let his hair grow out a little bit. She nearly laughs at what he has on. Next to the pristinely dressed Kay, Cassian’s rumpled white shirt, tie and black trousers look like they have been put together by a fourteen year old boy who’s been dragged to his parents’ work function against his will. 

Seeing him, however endearing he looks, hurts. Seeing him always hurts. 

_Come home, Jyn._

“Jyn!” 

Bodhi is the first one who spots her. She sees Cassian just turning his head, but then Bodhi is there, enveloping her in a tight, warm hug.

“Bloody hell, you look good,” says Bodhi after releasing her. “You even bothered to put on a dress!”

“Oh, well.” She gestures awkwardly down at the red summer dress she has on. She takes off her sunglasses and puts them on her head. “Of course, I was going to make an effort. It’s your graduation, Bodhi!” 

“You have make-up on,” notes Bodhi, his eyes twinkling. 

She glowers. “Oh, don’t make a big deal of it. Or I swear - ”

“I’m not! I just thought - ”

But she never finds out what Bodhi thought. Because, at that moment, Baze and Chirrut approach with wide grins on their faces. 

“Little sister,” says Baze, and she lets herself be swept up in his big, strong arms. The hug lingers and she clings to him for a while, realising how much she has missed this. 

“You look older,” she tells him with a small, watery smile.

“It happens to all of us, little sister,” says Baze, planting a kiss on her forehead. 

“I missed you,” she says, and looks at Chirrut. “I missed both of you.”

Chirrut reaches out his hand and she grabs it. There is no hug between them. This one simple touch already says everything they both needed to say. 

Then - 

“Jyn.” 

She turns and there he is, much closer to her than she wants him to be. She can see the wrinkles in the collar of his shirt, the way the corners of his mouth are twitching into a smile at the sight of her. 

She feels the colour rising in her cheeks under his gaze. Ex-husbands shouldn’t look at their ex-wives like this. He is drinking her in, dark eyes pulling them together, like no matter how hard he tries to hide it, he can’t wait to get her alone. 

She forces herself to look away. She tugs at the hem of her dress instead. 

“Hi, Cassian.” 

There is silence all around them. She can’t bring herself to look at any of her friends. 

“Hi, Jyn. You…um…you look great.” 

“Well, you look great too.”

He smiles. “You’re lying.” 

“Of course, I’m lying,” she says, and her eyes return to his face like she _can’t_ help it. She feels herself smiling along with him. “I’ve always told you that you should be banned from dressing yourself.” 

“Yes, well…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Ever since you, there was no one else to do it.”

She sucks in a short breath through clenched teeth.

How does he expect her to feel, hearing those words? Happy? Relieved? Is she supposed to be swept up in his arms and drown herself in the memories?

(Memories of her fixing up his tie, of her choosing a shirt for him from their closet, of her asking him to spin around just so she could look at him for a little while longer…)

“Cassian - ” 

“Guys, it’s time,” interrupts Bodhi loudly. He pushes in between them and winds his arm through hers, and she could kiss him for it. “We have to get you lot to your seats. The ceremony’s about to start.” And as he drags her away, he whispers softly in her ear: “Are you alright, Jyn?”

“Well, I’m still alive,” says Jyn dryly, but she gives his arm a thankful squeeze. 

“Because if you’re not okay - ” 

“Bodhi, _please._ ”

“Jyn - ”

“I’ll be fine. I promise. Now run along, pilot. It’s _your_ bloody ceremony.” 

Bodhi hesitates, but she levels him with a look he knows better than to contradict. Sighing, he grips her hand reassuringly before leaving to join his fellow graduates. 

But Jyn is not alone for long after Bodhi leaves her side. As she walks into the auditorium, someone else grabs her elbow as though he is about to escort her in. 

“Jyn,” says Kay, his voice low and calm, “we need to talk.”

She scoffs. “Damn right we do.”

 

* * *

_Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago_

_Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword_

_Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know_

_I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door_

* * *

 

Fortunately, once inside the auditorium, Jyn and Cassian are seated on opposite ends of their row. She is right by the aisle, with Baze to her left, and she has the task of prodding him with her elbow to stop him from nodding off. It is not like she blames him; it takes ages for the graduates to finally line up below the stage and walk up to receive their diplomas. Once Bodhi’s name is announced, Jyn delivers a particular hard punch to Baze’s shoulder and the older man wakes up just in time to cheer Bodhi along with the rest of them.

With the diploma gripped tightly in his hand, Bodhi turns to them and waves, an enormous grin on his face. 

Jyn feels Baze’s hand gripping hers as she blinks back her tears. 

“You okay, little sister?”

“Yes,” replies Jyn, squeezing Baze’s hand in return. “I remember when he had to work three jobs just to apply to this school. Now…he’s done it.” 

Baze’s smile is incredibly warm. “You’ve grown more sentimental since I last saw you.”

“Well,” she chuckles softly, “I guess people change.” _Or at least I hope they do._

Baze turns to her. There is curiosity swimming in his dark eyes. He looks like he wants to say something else or ask her a question (and she thinks she knows what), but then, suddenly, her phone begins to buzz. Frowning, she takes it out of her purse, stares at the message on the screen. 

 

_ \- Kay : [10:42] _

Meet me outside.

 

Baze pretends to look away, but the gesture does not fool her one bit. She rolls her eyes, whispers: “It’s Kay.”

“What does he want?”

“No idea.”

It is a lie. But that’s the thing with Baze and Chirrut. It never matters when she lies, because they can always see right through it anyway. So after a while, she lies not for their benefit but for her own. She has always been a master at denial. 

Baze arches an eyebrow and Jyn sighs in surrender. 

“He probably wants to talk about Cassian.”

“Cassian?” Baze’s frown deepens. “What aren’t you telling me, little sister?”

“There are many things I’m not telling you,” she says before she can stop herself. “After all, Baze, you’ve been gone a long time.”

She catches the shift in his expression immediately and she wants nothing more than to give herself a kick in the stomach.

“Baze - ” 

“You don’t need to say you’re sorry.”

“That was uncalled for. I didn’t - ”

“Don’t say you didn’t mean it because you did.” Baze sighs and he doesn’t look angry. Just sad. “You’re right, you know, little sister? We’ve been gone a long time.”

“And it was my fault that you left. Mine and Cassian’s. I have no right to - ”

“It’s not just about you and the detective,” says Baze, looking at her kindly. “We…well, _I_ needed a change.”

“I understand that.” 

“ _I_ needed a change. It was…being here…it was getting too much. Chirrut was always the one who…I never - ”

“Baze, you don’t have to explain.”

“But I do.” He grips her hand again. “I know we had a good reason for leaving, but we still left. And you needed us. Both of you.” He smirks a little. “ _All_ of you.” 

She smiles softly. “I suppose some things we have to go through alone.”

“Not always.” He squeezes her hand once more. “But we’re here now. Jyn, I’m not going to lie and say it’s not because of Chirrut - ”

“I don’t care about the reason as long as both of you are here now.”

“Has anyone ever told you,” says Baze, smiling fondly at her, “that you are a remarkably kind person, little sister?”

“No. Never. And you’re probably the only person who ever will.” 

“Ah. Perhaps.” 

She gives Baze’s hand another reassuring squeeze. She hopes he knows the gesture means she forgives him - that she doesn’t blame him for not being there - and that she, in turn, is saying sorry for both her and Cassian. After all, she can’t blame someone for leaving when it is the only thing they _can_ do in the circumstance.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Kay glaring daggers at her from the other end of the row. She bites down the impulse to laugh, and begins typing a response. 

 

_ \- You : [10:46] _

You want to meet now??

 

_ \- Kay : [10:46] _

Yes.

 

_ \- You : [10:47] _

We’re in the middle of the ceremony.

 

_ \- Kay : [10:48] _

Bodhi’s already got his diploma.

It will just be boring speeches from now on.

 

_ \- You : [10:49] _

How can you possibly know that?

 

_ \- Kay : [10:50] _

Need I remind you that I’m the only one in our group who has university degrees?

Not one, but several?

 

_ \- You : [10:51] _

Snob. 

Can’t it wait until after the ceremony?

 

_ \- Kay : [10:52] _

No.

Unless you want to be interrupted by everyone else.

 

_ \- You : [10:52] _

Fine.

 

_\- Kay : [10:53]_

I’ll go out first.

You can follow in five minutes.

 

_ \- You : [10:54] _

FINE. 

 

Five minutes later, Jyn mumbles to Baze about going to the bathroom (again, he isn’t fooled) and sneaks out of the auditorium. She finds Kay already waiting outside, hidden behind one of the pillars near the marble stairs that lead down to the garden. He has one hand in his suit pocket, another holding a glass of water, and Jyn walks right up to him and plucks the glass from his hand. 

“Thank you, Kay,” she says, taking a sip. “How did you know I wanted a drink?”

“Quit playing games, Jyn,” sighs Kay, grabbing the glass back. “You know why we’re having this conversation.”

“I really don’t,” lies Jyn, leaning against the pillar and crossing her arms.

“You do.” Kay gives her a withering look. “For all your faults, you are not thick.”

“Thank you. I suppose.”

“Your welcome. So out with it then.”

“Out with what?”

“With what you’re planning to tell Cassian.”

Jyn doesn’t allow herself to falter. She recrosses her arms and fixes Kay with a defiant stare. “I don’t know yet.”

“Well, that’s just great,” drawls Kay.

“I can’t believe that you - of all people - would let him make that phone call!”

“Are you blaming me?”

_No._ “Yes.” 

Anger flickers through Kay’s expression. “For the record, I was the one who _gave_ him the phone.”

_This_ Jyn did not see coming. There is a dreadfully long pause. Kay keeps glaring at her and she is not sure if she wants to laugh or cry. Eventually, she stammers: “Kay, why?”

“Because he is never going to be happy unless the two of you are together.”

“That is not true,” says Jyn immediately. “You can’t put it all on me. That’s not fair. And why the fuck do you even care, Kay? You have always disapproved of us.”

“Yes, that is true. I’m not going to deny that. I disapproved when you got together and I disapproved when you got married.” Kay grimaces. “You and Cassian…well, it never made much sense to me. But now, I am beginning to think that it wasn’t meant to make sense to anyone else as long as it made sense to the two of you.” 

Her breath hitches in her throat. “Kay - ”

“So make sure you have an answer, one way or another. If you want to take him back, take him back. If you don’t, tell him so and then fuck off out of our lives forever. Either way, you should be capable of giving him a straight answer. You and I are very much alike in this regard, whether you like it or not. We’ve always had the subtlety of a blunt cleaver.” 

A dry, choked laugh escapes from Jyn’s lips, and her voice breaks a little when she says: “And there I was, thinking I missed having you in my life.”

 

* * *

_When my time comes around_

_Lay me gently in the cold dark earth_

_No grave can hold my body down_

_I'll crawl home to her_

* * *

 

It doesn’t hurt to see her anymore. Cassian is not quite sure why.

Before, after their divorce, just hearing her voice was bad enough; seeing her in the flesh was akin to torture. But today, when he saw her walking towards them in a red summer dress with her hair tied up, he no longer had the same familiar sharp pain that went through his entire body. Instead, there was a fluttering inside his chest. An exciting, sweet and desperate emotion that made him want to smile and smile like a young schoolboy. If someone were to ask him about it, he would call it hope. 

He thinks it must be because of the phone call - of the way she’d said his name with such longing. _Small victories_ , he had told himself at the time. 

Yes. Hope seems about right. 

“We always come back to what we need, don’t we, detective?”

Cassian turns and there is Chirrut by his elbow. The old man is smiling as though he is enjoying a joke that he alone knows the punchline to. His blind eyes are not looking at Cassian, but staring straight ahead at the view Cassian has been staring at for the last few minutes: Bodhi and Jyn at the top of the marble stairs. Bodhi, with his diploma in his hand, is laughing at something Jyn has said, while Jyn herself is leaning against a pillar, her eyes shining with a stubbornness that Cassian knows all too well. 

“During the last couple of years,” Cassian tells Chirrut quietly, “there were times when I really hated you.” 

Chirrut arches an eyebrow, feigning confusion. Cassian scoffs. 

“Come on. You know what I’m talking about. All those years ago - if you hadn’t told me to come to your restaurant on that Thursday morning, Jyn and I…we wouldn’t have gotten together.” Cassian sees Jyn smiling at Bodhi and the sight makes him smile too. His smile is fleeting, though; a few seconds later, it disappears as quickly as it came. “You could have saved both of us - all of us - a lot of pain over the years, old man.”

Chirrut chuckles warmly. “Detective, do you honestly think I was the one who brought the two of you together? It was meant to happen, one way or another, with or without me.” 

“You make it sound like it was destined to be,” says Cassian wryly. “I don’t think God or destiny or the universe cares much about what happens to me.”

“Ah. You do not think you are deserving of such a blessing?” 

Cassian turns to Chirrut and wishes the blind man could see the dumbfounded expression on his face. “This is one of the most bizarre conversations I’ve ever had,” he says. 

“Surely, you are used to it by now. With me.”

“I should be. But somehow, I never am.”

Chirrut smiles fondly. “Oh, how I’ve missed your company, detective.”

Cassian smirks. “Then perhaps you should just say it, old man.”

“Say what?”

“Whatever you flew half-way around the world to say.” 

Chirrut shakes his head, and gives a small, exasperated sigh before he continues.

“You said you don’t think the universe cares much about what happens to you. And even if it does, you feel as though you don’t deserve the good things that come your way.” 

“I never said - ” 

“We humans tend to think we are masters of the world. That every action we take reverberates throughout history. That everything we do is either a sin or a good deed, deserving of either a blessing or a punishment.” He turns to look at Cassian, his smile full of kindness and understanding although his eyes are as blank as stones. “But maybe, detective, it has never been about what we deserve at all. Maybe it has always been about what we are given.” 

Cassian does not know what to say to that. He is not even sure he understands. He looks away from the old man, his gaze returning to Bodhi and Jyn on the steps. And her words from many years ago, spoken brokenly in their kitchen, echo in his mind again. 

_Do you think we deserve each other?_

“You’ve always thought that she is the brave one,” says Chirrut quietly. “But you, detective, have more courage than you know.” 

Cassian feels something twisting around his heart at Chirrut’s words. But when he turns around to say thank you, the older man has disappeared from his side and gone back to where Baze is standing. 

Chirrut’s place, however, is immediately taken up by Kay. 

“An interesting chat, I presume?” asks Kay, his lips quirking into a small smile.

Cassian shrugs. “You know how Chirrut is. Kind, but mysterious. Infuriatingly so.” He pauses, studies his friend’s blank expression for a second. “Speaking of mysterious, do I want to know why you and Jyn sneaked out of the ceremony?”

“You don’t,” Kay replies sharply. 

“Good. I wasn’t planning on asking.”

Kay scoffs and Cassian looks away again. Kay follows his gaze. The two friends stand there for a few minutes in silence, watching as Bodhi and Jyn talk in hushed voices. They see Jyn wrapping Bodhi in a tight hug and something warm erupts in Cassian’s chest at the sight. 

Eventually, Cassian says: “Kay, whatever happens between me and Jyn…I just want to say thank you.” 

_For putting me in rehab. For staying by my side. For giving me the phone. For caring._

A pause. 

He hears Kay shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. 

“There is no need to thank me, Cassian,” replies Kay, and his voice is struggling to stay level. “I simply did what I had to do.”

“Yes, you did, but…thanks anyway.”

“Your welcome.”

Cassian smiles a little and there, stretched out before them, the world seems filled with endless possibilities. 

 

* * *

_But a friend of mine says it’s good to hear_

_That you believe in love even if set in fear_

_Well, I’ll hold you there, brother, and set you straight_

_I only believe true love is frail and willing to break_

* * *

 

“Do you miss it? Like last time?” asks Bodhi, teetering on the step below her. 

They have talked about everything else - the ceremony, the diploma he has in his hand, her travels across Europe. Now, they have come to the topic she knows he worries about most: is there such a thing as a reformed criminal? Can it be, that someone like her, who has been running for nearly her entire life, could ever be satisfied with the ordinary? 

And for the first time ever, Jyn has an answer for him. 

“No, not like last time,” she says. “Last time, I missed the thrill. The chase. The attention.” She scoffs as she remembers a certain car ride she’d had with Han Solo. It’d been _she_ who had asked the very same question Bodhi is asking now. What a fool she had been back then. “This time, I just miss the people, not the jobs themselves. I miss Han. I even miss Lando.”

There is a short silence. Bodhi looks relieved, then he laughs. “Well, I’m stunned.” 

“Why?” asks Jyn, frowning. 

“I never thought you could do it without…Well, without…”

“Cassian?” 

Bodhi winces. “I didn’t want to - ”

“No, it’s okay,” says Jyn, sighing deeply. “It was a fair question.”

“So what’s changed?”

“What’s changed?” She shrugs. “Time, I suppose. Distance. You.” Bodhi blushes, but she pretends not to notice and continues. “I’ve been thinking about my parents a lot. I don’t want it all to be for nothing. But mostly,” she smiles humourlessly, “I just don't think my body can take it anymore.” 

Bodhi lets out a strangled laugh. He studies her for a moment and says: “Jyn, you’ve grown up.”

“You make it sound like I wasn’t grown up before.”

“Well, technically, you’ve been an adult since you were sixteen,” says Bodhi, shrugging. “But there’s a difference between - between being an adult and being grown up, I suppose.”

She smiles. “Are you going to keep spouting these clever insights now that you have a diploma?”

“It’s been the plan all along,” he replies smoothly. 

In that moment, Jyn realises there is something different about her best friend. It is not simply the fact that he is standing a little straighter, that his eyes aren’t darting around in panic like they used to. It is more about the way he shrugs and walks and moves like he is finally comfortable in his own skin. Like he _belongs._

“I - uh - I have a graduation gift for you,” says Jyn. 

“You didn’t have to - ”

“I wanted to.” 

She reaches into her purse and brings it out. She presents it to Bodhi, the item tiny in the palm of her hand. 

Immediately, Bodhi gasps.

“Jyn - ”

“I know I’ve kept it for a year, but - ” 

“I thought it was broken. I thought you threw it away. That Christmas - ” 

“After you left that night, I kept the pieces and managed to put them together.” She inhales sharply. “I felt bad. That fight was awful. It was my fault.”

“Jyn - ”

“I know how much this means to you. So here it is. Your graduation present.”

“Oh, Jyn.” 

Bodhi reaches out his hand and takes the magnet from her. It is still in the shape of Texas, the wood still chipped at the edges. But now, there are cracks running across it like tiny rivers and valleys. 

And for a brief moment, Jyn lets the memory of the day when she first saw it overwhelm her. Cassian smiling at her from across the tiny store in Corpus Christi. Cassian shaking his head exasperatedly when she showed him the magnet. 

_I found the perfect gift for Bodhi._

_Come on, Jyn. Are you being a little cheap?_

“However did you manage to glue it back together?” asks Bodhi, a little awed, and his words jolt Jyn out of her reverie. 

“With lots and lots of super glue,” she replies, smiling. “I burned my fingers a couple of times. It is still a little broken, mind you. But it works.” 

“Wow.” Bodhi stares transfixed at the magnet as though he can’t believe what he is seeing. “Thank you, Jyn.”

There are tears in Bodhi’s eyes. She hastily wraps him in a hug to stop them from falling and to stop herself from crying too. 

“Proud of you,” she whispers into the shoulder of his gown. 

“Proud of you too.”

Bodhi gives her a searching look when they break apart. 

“Jyn, does this mean - ”

She shakes her head. Of course, she knows exactly what he is referring to.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Because, if you want to, I’m not in a position to judge.”

“But you said - ”

“That it was going to be complicated?” Bodhi smirks. “Yes, it’s going to be complicated. With you and Cassian, it’s always going to be complicated.”

“I thought you’d be happy.”

Bodhi shrugs and his eyes stray over to where Cassian is standing, talking quietly with Kay. His tone becomes wistful when he continues. 

“I - uh - I used to be a fucking romantic, wasn’t I? Thought anything was possible if people loved each other enough. What a load of bullocks. I guess things are more complicated than that.”

“We’ve taken a lot from you, Bodhi,” says Jyn sadly. “Don’t let us take that too.”

“I just…I want you to be okay, Jyn. More than anything.”

“I will be. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

Bodhi smirks again. “I _always_ worry about you. It’s how this friendship works.” He turns towards Cassian once more and a small smile comes to his lips. “And I guess that’s my cue.”

“What - ”

“Look, Jyn.” 

Jyn follows Bodhi’s gaze and sees Cassian walking towards them, his eyes locking onto hers over the crowd of people. She feels her heart skipping a beat. Feels the heat rushing to her cheeks, and damn it, will it always be this way?

She forces herself to look away from her ex-husband and back at Bodhi. Her best friend is smiling at her, with warmth and too much understanding in his dark eyes.

“Good luck, Jyn.”

“Thanks,” she mutters. And then, after a short pause: “Are _you_ going to be okay, Bodhi?”

“Me?” He looks surprised, as though he has never been asked the question before, and he hesitates a little before replying: “You know, for the first time in years, I think I’m going to be.” 

He lifts up his diploma and a grin spreads across his face. 

“I’m going to fly, Jyn. Can you believe it? I’m finally going to fly.” 

 

* * *

_We were born before the wind_

_Also younger than the sun_

_Smell the sea and feel the sky_

_Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic_

* * *

 

Bodhi is still smiling when he joins Kay, Chirrut and Baze in front of the auditorium. There are still people hanging around, taking pictures and getting drinks from the nearby table. Bodhi has to side-step one of his classmates and her elderly grandmother to get to Kay. He taps the other man lightly on the shoulder to get his attention and Kay turns, his blank expression lighting up at the sight of Bodhi. 

“Is Cassian - ” 

“Cassian is with Jyn, yes.”

Kay pauses for a moment and Bodhi can see all the emotions racing through his friend’s expression, with worry being the most obvious one that he is able to catch. 

“It’s alright,” says Bodhi quickly. “I think they’ll - ”

“I bet ten bucks they’re going to get back together,” interrupts Baze from his place next to Chirrut. He waves a lazy hand at Cassian and Jyn on the steps, almost as though he is bored out of his mind by the sight of them. 

Chirrut gives a pleasing smile at his partner’s words. Kay, however, scowls.

“At this point,” says Kay bitingly, “is anyone betting _against_ them getting back together?”

“ _I_ would,” says Bodhi, shrugging, “but I’m not suicidal. If they were to get back together and found out I bet against them…”

“Grow a pair, Rook,” says Kay, rolling his eyes. 

“Then _you_ should bet against them.” 

“I’d rather shoot myself in the head.”

“Which is what you’d want to do once they actually get back together.” 

Kay sighs and presses two fingers to his temple. “Remind me again why we’re friends?”

Bodhi and Chirrut laugh. But Baze says: “Will we have a celebratory dinner?”

“A celebratory dinner?” asks Kay.

“For when they get back together.”

“I propose Chinese,” says Chirrut.

“You _always_ propose Chinese,” says Kay. 

“Because Chinese is - ” 

“The only food you know,” says Kay, earning an uncharacteristic glower from Chirrut. “And we don’t even know if they _are_ going to get back together. They might not. If so, we will all be spending the next few years of our lives in total misery.” He shrugs. “But then again, what else is new?” 

Baze smirks, Chirrut begins to talk back at Kay, and Bodhi thinks he could never find enough words to describe what it means to him to see them all here at his graduation. It is _almost_ like old times, and Jyn and Cassian would join them in a minute, and they’d all laugh about whatever stupid thing they’d done that weekend…

Immediately, Bodhi has to remind himself that it is not the same. That it is impossible to repeat the past. But, today, for once, they are here for _him,_ and somehow, that’s enough to make all the bad things that have gone on before seem insignificant. 

He must have gotten lost in his own head for a bit because Kay is looking at him, a confused expression on his face. 

“Bodhi?”

“Sorry, what?”

“We were asking if you could take us to a good restaurant for dinner.”

“Oh, yes, definitely,” Bodhi stammers. “Yeah - yeah, I know quite a few around here we can try.” 

Kay frowns. “Bodhi, are you alright?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” He sees the three of them looking at him with concern and he grins, the warmth of it spreading over his skin like fire. “Yeah, I’m okay. Never been better.”

Despite its size, Jyn and Cassian’s magnet feels heavy in his pocket. The sun is shining, the day is long, his friends are here with him and the sky is brighter than it has ever been. 

Yes, they cannot repeat the past. But better days are coming. Bodhi knows. He can feel it in his bones. 

 

* * *

_Did you run away?_

_Did you run away? I don’t need to know_

_If you ran away_

_If you ran away, come back home_

_Just come home_

* * *

 

“I brought you flowers,” is the first thing Cassian says when he reaches her. 

He doesn’t come to stand beside her. Instead, he goes down and stands just two steps below where she is so that he is looking up at her, his mouth curving into a small smile. 

“I left them in the car, though. I came to my senses and realised that if you saw me holding flowers, you’d probably cut and run.”

Her mouth twitches. “I don’t think you’re wrong there.”

“I can go get them.” He shrugs, his smile widening. “They’re sunflowers.” 

She looks at him for a moment, her eyes narrowing. Then -

“You’re a prick.”

“You mentioned that on the phone.”

“But, see…I don’t think you heard me.” She crosses her arms and glares at him. She hates that he is making her look down at him. Hates that he’s standing there with a stupid smile on his face. Hates that she wants him to go away while at the same time never wanting him to leave again. “You’re a fucking asshole, Cassian. You can’t call me up like you did, saying those things.”

“I thought - ”

“I have a life. A pretty decent life. It has taken me years, but I’m finally doing great.” She thinks of the youth centre in South London. Of Cathy and all the other kids she’s bound to let down because _he_ is here, looking at her with eyes she can’t quite forget. “I have people counting on me, Cassian. Good people. And I’m now at a place where I don’t hate myself every time I look in the mirror. You, of all people, should know how much that means to me. You’re a fucking asshole, a downright prick, for calling me.” Her frown deepens. “And why _the hell_ are you laughing?”

Because he _is_ laughing. He is biting his lip, trying to smother down the sound, but she can still see how his entire body is shaking. 

How is it that, after all these years, he can still make her blood boil like no other? She doesn’t understand him, she tells herself. Never has and probably never will. 

“Is this funny to you?” she demands. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “But you’re angry. That means you care. That means you feel _something._ ”

“Of course, I feel something, you idiot! It’s us!” Her voice shakes as she drops her arms to her side. “It’s you and me! Of course, I’m going to feel something. I’m _always_ going to feel something. That’s the problem.” 

He catches the brokenness behind her words and his smile slips. 

“Jyn - ”

“Is this a joke to you?”

“Of course not.” 

“Because I swear, if it is - ” 

“Jyn, I asked you to come home and I meant it.” There is no mirth in those dark eyes anymore. Just honesty. She almost flinches away from it. “Like I told you, I should have fought for us when you walked away. I should have stopped you. Gone after you. Begged for you to come back - ” 

“I never wanted you to beg.”

“No, but you wanted me to come after you and I didn’t.”

“Cassian - ”

“I should have come after you that night and all the nights since then.”

She feels tears begin sliding down her cheeks, but she angrily wipes them away. “It doesn’t matter what I wanted. It wouldn’t have matter.”

He scoffs. “Of course, it would have mattered.” He pauses, draws a breath. And for the first time that day, he looks tired and, damn it, seeing him tired is still one of the worst things she has ever seen. “Jyn, we’re miserable without each other. I can’t go on without you anymore.”

“It’s for the best,” she says stubbornly. “We both agreed.”

“Maybe we’re wrong.”

“You said we’re miserable without each other.” She wipes away more tears. Her hands are shaking uncontrollably. “But you forget, Cassian. We were miserable _with_ each other too. _We_ make each other miserable.”

“That’s not - ” 

“What? True?” She sneers at him through her tears. He flinches and looks away like those words had stabbed him in the gut. “Six years and you’ve fooled yourself into thinking that everything was better back then? Me waiting for you to come home. _That_ was miserable. You not telling me things. You lying to me. You not even realising I was _there…_ Those things fucking _hurt._ ”

“Jyn - ”

“And you’re telling me I didn’t hurt _you_ when I drank too much just to spite you? Or when I couldn’t stay in one place because I didn't know how? Or when I was selfish and mean because I didn’t know any other way to be?” She smirks. “We hurt each other, Cassian. We are _still_ hurting each other.”

She is full on crying now, and _fuck_ , she must look a mess. She didn’t even realise she has been shouting; she notices people looking their way and pretending not to stare. And, oh God, they are back here again - fighting, pleading, grieving - and she thinks her heart will always be broken because of him. 

“Jyn,” says Cassian, his eyes finding hers once more. His voice is soft, but firm when he says: “We can be better.”

“What if we can’t?”

“We’ll learn how to be.”

“It is not that simple.”

“It is if we - ”

“You can’t expect us both to change - ”

“I’m not expecting you to - ”

“ - because people don’t just _change_ \- ”

“ - be different. I simply want us to - ” 

“What? Pretend like we’re fine?” she snaps. “It’s too late, Cassian!”

“It’s _not_ too late,” says Cassian, his voice rising and his eyes flashing with anger. “It is _not_ too late if we still want to fight for this. _I_ want to fight for this because you’re wrong, Jyn. People _do_ change. You’ve changed me and I’m damn sure I’ve changed _you._ ”

“Well, then, maybe we don’t know each another anymore,” she cries, throwing her hands in the air. “Maybe you just want the Jyn of seven or eight years ago. Not the me that I am now.” 

“I don’t care. I want you. Every fucking version of you.” 

It shouldn’t hurt so much to hear that, but it does. She lets out a dry sob and has to look away from him. She has to throw something - anything - at him to shut him up. 

“What about your job?” she snaps. 

“I’m _not_ giving it up,” he says. “I’m a detective. It’s who I am. I _need_ to do it. Otherwise - otherwise I’d…”

“I never asked you to give it up, but we both know I wanted you to.” She smiles bitterly, her eyes fixed on a spot on the nearby pillar. She wants to look any where, but at him. “I know I was being selfish. You’re doing good, for fuck’s sake, and I was the cunt who didn’t want you to do it.” Her smile turns into a sneer. “How does it feel, knowing this? Do you still want me now?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him wince. “I know I didn’t open up to you and I should have. I’m working on that. If you come home, it’ll be different.”

“You gave your whole self to it and I was left with the pieces.” 

His mouth tightens. “I know. And I’m sorry.” He says it like he can never say it enough. “But, Jyn, all those things about you not wanting me to do it at all… You don’t mean that. You’re only saying it just to hurt me.”

He knows. Of course, he knows. After all, he’s always been the one who’s better at reading everyone else. Yes, she wanted him home. Yes, she wanted him safe. But she wouldn’t have loved him if he hadn’t been so goddamn noble and self-sacrificing in the first place. Cassian has a purpose - something she has never had. A higher cause, maybe. And she thinks she must be a hypocrite for loving him and hating him for it at the same time. 

“You’re right,” she says eventually. “I said that to hurt you. That’s the kind of person I am. I throw shots to hurt people. Why the hell would you want to be with me?”

He sighs, long and heavy. A beat. Then - 

“Seriously? Grow the fuck up, Jyn.”

His tone is suddenly angry and cruel, and it makes her gaze return to him at once. He is looking up at her, his face flushed and his eyes blazing. 

“Cassian, what - ” 

“Grow the fuck up,” he repeats. “You’re not the only one who lost everything. You have people who love you now. Really love you, Jyn. But all you do is test them and push them away because you’re afraid they’re going to leave you. Well, guess what? We’re not leaving you. I think all of us have proved that over the years.”

“Oh, you think everything is so easy, don’t you?”

“No! It’s going to be hard. Really hard.”

“Then why - ”

“It’s going to be complicated and painful and ugly, but, goddamn it, Jyn, we can do it. This time, we can do it.”

“Cassian, what if we can’t?”

“We have to.”

She scoffs. “What if we still don’t know how to talk to each other?”

“Then we’ll get someone who can _make_ us talk.”

She thinks, once again, of the South London youth centre she has grown to love, and says: “I can’t stay home all the time.”

“Then don’t. I never wanted you to.” 

“What if I keep disappointing you?”

“You never have.” 

She swallows. “And what if you can’t stop staying out late to work on cases?” 

“I can’t promise you I’ll be home early, but I’ll tell you about the cases. What they - what they do to me. Not like last time. Not like…” He draws another long breath and averts his eyes. “Look, Jyn. We both nearly died this year. You got shot and I could have been in that car when it blew up. I don’t - I don’t ever want to go through that again. Not when we’re still apart. If things were to end, I want - I want it to be with you.” 

She thinks of the dream again - of him lying dead in a ditch somewhere with blood pouring from his side. She wipes away fresh tears and looks away from him. 

“Cassian, what if,” - and her voice breaks - “Cassian, what if we don’t deserve each other? What if we don’t deserve to be happy? What if we don’t even deserve a chance at _trying_?”

As soon as she’s said it, she _knows._ Yes, this is it. The crux of it. It’s not that they _can’t_ make it work; it’s that maybe people like them aren’t supposed to. 

There is a long pause. For a while, neither one of them says anything, and she thinks maybe she’s gotten to him. Maybe he’ll be the one to walk away this time and she’ll do what she has promised Kay and walk out of their lives forever. She has lost him once. She can do it again. At least, it is what she tells herself. 

Eventually, Cassian says: “I used to think that way too.”

She is startled by how calm his voice has become. She is still shaking, her heart still racing like it would never stop. But when she turns to him, she sees a soft smile on his lips as he looks at her with something close to tenderness.

“Maybe you’re right, Jyn,” he continues. “I don’t deserve you. Maybe we don’t deserve each other. Maybe, with everything we’ve done, we don’t deserve to be happy. But here’s the thing - we _were_ happy, Jyn. That’s God’s honest truth. It wasn’t all just misery. You still make me happy now and I bet I still make you happy.”

Her eyes flutter shut at his words. He could shoot her and it would be less painful. 

“Maybe we have a chance at something we don’t deserve. So what? Perhaps the universe is kind, nice, generous - whatever the fuck you want to call it - and it threw us a bone. Are we supposed to toss it away because we aren’t brave enough to take it?” 

He laughs shakily and the sound is almost a joyous one. She opens her eyes, looks at him. 

“I love you,” Cassian says simply. “If you didn't know that before, then that’s on me. I love you, Jyn. You’re it for me. So what do you say…to getting a cup of coffee with me?”

She lets out a stupid, broken laugh, but it feels as though her heart has stilled. The moment - with only _them_ in it - seems to drag on ‘till eternity. 

_Maybe we have a chance at something we don’t deserve._

Suddenly, something clicks in her mind and she whispers: “Grace.”

Cassian frowns. “What?”

“Grace,” she says, and feels herself beginning to smile. “The word for the universe _throwing us a bone_ even though we don’t deserve it.” 

“I don’t understand - ”

She closes her eyes once more, and for a moment, she is not here in a sunny college in America, standing above Cassian with the breeze blowing through her hair. She is back in England. The air is thick with rain, the earth heavy beneath her feet. There is a ray of sunshine touching on stone, and the entire world is incredibly warm and bright like it had been when she was a child. 

And she whispers to herself, barely loud enough for him to hear: “For sin shall not have dominion over you. For you are not under the law, but under grace.” 

“Jyn?”

She opens her eyes, sees him still looking at her. 

Caution. Indecision. Fear. She sees them all in his gaze and she wants nothing more than to drive each and every one of them away. 

There is always a particular moment in life when you take a leap, however big or small, and Jyn’s leap begins with her hand finding Cassian’s cheek. 

He is warm beneath her fingers. Exceptionally so. He looks confused at first, but then, a smile begins to spread across his features. She sees it and smiles too. The drumming she hears is the sound of her own heartbeat or it could even be the sound of the world coming to an end. She doesn’t know. Doesn’t really care. The only thing she knows is that she is leaning in closer and closer, and then his mouth opens beneath hers as she brings her lips down on his.

Six years. Six whole years go into the kiss. 

Every drunken phone call, every lonely night, every regret, every could-have-beens. 

Her fingers wind through his hair and her other hand goes to the nape of his neck. He runs his hand up her arm, while the other cling onto her waist like he can’t bear to let her go. He lets out a strangled noise against her mouth, and she moans into it, feels herself shaking with the closeness of their bodies. But it is not enough. It is not _nearly_ enough…. So she pushes herself into him even more, letting herself taste him fully, breathe with him as though she wants to crawl inside his skin and die there. She has dreamed of it, tried to remembered it, but nothing is like the real thing. She forgot how good it felt to be in his arms. 

Yes, everything hurts. But everything is alive too. And, damn it, she hasn’t been alive in a long, long time. 

_I want to keep at least some of those vows we made, remember?_

_Jyn, marry me._

_The thing is - I think you’re quite unforgettable._

_Welcome home._

She doesn’t quite know how they manage to break apart or _when_ they finally break apart. But after they do, they find themselves panting, their foreheads touching, grinning tearily like two helpless idiots as they stare into each other’s eyes. She nearly stumbles on the step as he holds her tight. 

Finally -

“I’m afraid,” she admits quietly. 

“I know,” he says, and that is all he says. His thumb brushes against her cheek and she closes her eyes for a few seconds, leaning into his touch like she had done a lifetime ago. 

“So, _Miss_ Erso,” says Cassian, smiling, “was that a yes?” 

Jyn chuckles sadly. Brokenly. She brings her fingers to his lips, parts them open again with a soft sigh. He is a mess. She is a mess. But there is no mistaking the strength in that single syllable when she finally lets it drop her from lips.

“Yes,” she whispers. “ _Yes._ ” 

 

* * *

_Put a candle in the window, 'cause I feel I've got to move_

_Though I'm going, I'll be coming home soon_

_As long as I can see the light_

_Pack my bag and let's get moving, 'cause I'm bound to drift a while_

_When I'm gone, you don't have to worry long_

_I won't be losing my way_

_As long as I can see the light_

_As long as I can see the light_

_._

_._

_._

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> List of songs used in this chapter (in order): PJ Harvey's "The Water Is Wide", Hozier's "Eden", Hozier's "Work Song", Laura Marling's "Goodbye England (Covered In Snow)", James Morrison's "Into The Mystic", SYM's "Where's My Love", and Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Long As I Can See The Light". Thanks also to Una Healy's "Stay My Love", Strays Don't Sleep's "For Blue Skies" and a German song recommended by **guineapiggie** called "Wenn Du Liebst" by Clueso for the inspiration. [Check out the playlist here!](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6q0-u-EGyHU9e97LkZXq7jsvBams3flT&spfreload=10)
> 
> Now that the series has ended, I want to say thank you to everyone who has ever read, reviewed, bookmarked or given kudos. You know who you are. This has been an unforgettable experience and it is all because of your enthusiasm and generosity. I hope this ending is not a let down! 
> 
> Thank you also to **guineapiggie**. Writing this with a such a talented writer like you has been an incredible experience. My series would not have existed without your feedback, support and kindness. I hope we will continue to read and review each other's stories going forward. You, my friend, are one awesome cookie and I am so glad you're my partner throughout this entire process. And, guys, if you want to know what happens next in this AU, make sure you keep an eye out for **guineapiggie** 's next story!
> 
> PLEASE hit me with your thoughts and feelings on this chapter. I don't care if they're random or critical! Also, please do not hesitate to leave any questions you may have regarding the stories, the characters, the music, my writing process or anything at all! I would LOVE to hear from you!


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